


Breakfast at Waynes´

by RoseVered



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: and some fluff, fun fic, occasional strong word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseVered/pseuds/RoseVered
Summary: Wayne family enjoys (mostly) peaceful morning time... Series of one-shots





	1. Chapter 1

It was a peaceful morning in Wayne Manor. Or it could have been.

Bruce Wayne, lord of the house, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist at day, Dark knight at night, sat at the table enjoying rich English breakfast. He was smiling slightly, savoring the fact that all of his sons were for once gathered at home. Last night was a quite rush one, so he – with a help from Alfred – convinced the older three boys it will be the best for them to stay at home for the night.

The oldest of his sons, Dick, was just stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs. Which was lucky, because he finally fell silent for a moment. This was much appreciated mainly by Bruce´s second youngest, Tim. Bruce had a very strong suspicion that Tim despite his young age had already became highly addicted to caffeine, and today he didn´t have his daily dose yet. And you don´t talk to Tim without his morning coffee.

Jason, second oldest, preferred to go and help Alfred in the kitchen. He never had the nerve for Dick´s constant optimism, especially in the morning, and cooking always helped him to calm down.

Damian, the youngest, was still asleep. Bruce let him, being barely teenager he needed more sleep. And it was Sunday after all.

Bruce smiled again, lifting a cup of Earl Grey to his lips. He never managed to drink it.

Peace and serenity of a Sunday morning was suddenly cut by Damian´s menacing scream.

Bruce almost dropped his favorite cup. Dick choked on his eggs. Tim looked like he was having a heart attack. Alfred rushed out of the kitchen, followed by Jason, who walked into the dining room rather undisturbed.

"What the f**k is going on?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows. In answer, stomping on the staircase sounded and Damian stormed into the room, apparently highly enraged.

"I demand an explanation! What the hell is this?!" And he drew the hair off his forehead.

In the middle of his forehead there shone a textbook example of a pimple.

Bruce just winked. Dick inhaled the piece of eggs he previously managed to expectorate. Tim dug his face in a cup of coffee, but his face was red and tears glistened in corners of his eyes. Jason laughed hysterically, his arm around Alfred´s shoulder, trying not to fall on the floor. Alfred had his usual calm and distinguished expression.

"It is acne, young master," finally said Alfred placidly.

"Time for The Talk, daddy," hiccuped Jason wiping the tears off his eyes.

Tim muttered into his coffee something sounding suspiciously as "time for make-up." Jason howled with laughter again. "Or what about using your katana?" he uttered.

"I will gladly leave the privilege of talking to you," Bruce muttered to Dick, when he finally found speech again. "Oh, you didn´t have to," wheezed Dick.

"Todd, Drake, you both are useless," growled Damian, slapping his hair back on his forehead.

"Err, maybe Barbara would…," Dick started in a faint voice. "Don´t you dare, Grayson," warned Damian menacingly.

At last Alfred stepped in. "Come on, young master. I am sure I can find something in first-aid kit to solve your little problem."

"Very well," Damian frowned and let himself to be led out of the room, glancing murderously over his shoulder.

As soon as they vanished out of the earshot, the three remaining brothers burst into laughter, but Bruce intercepted.

"OK, fun is over. Dick, do you happen to have that anti-blemish-thing you used to use?"

"Nope, Jay used it up years ago."

"Tim?"

"Never needed one."

"Oh God, and I was so hoping never come through this again." Bruce buried his face in his hands.

It was such a peaceful morning...


	2. Chapter 2

Right in that moment when Damian sat to the table without his usual threat to kill Tim, should Dick have known something was very wrong.

Damian poured himself a cup of Assam tea, added a splash of milk, still remaining quiet. And Dick was still savoring his breakfast, blissfully unaware of signals of the impending doom.

Damian took a sip of his tea, nodded approvingly and reached for toast and butter. He spread the butter over the toast and before he took a bit, he said: "I am having a tattoo."

Silence fell on the table. Dick´s smile froze. So much for the peaceful breakfast.

"T-tattoo?" He stuttered finally.

"Yes, I though, what about let´s say katana, or..."

"Or what about dog´s paw?" smirked Jason.

"What about you shut up, Todd?" growled Damian.

"No tattoo," Dick´s weak voice tried to intervene.

"Hey, should I find some statistics on tattoo related hepatitis B and C and HIV infections?" Tim peered from behind his laptop, holding a mug of coffee.

"You don´t have to strain yourself, Replacement," Jason winked at him. "Tattoo is actually pretty safe. You just have to insist on new needle, disinfection and gloves. And a few references are of no harm, too." Jason counted on fingers for Damian.

"You have some," the boy realized. "Show me!" he ordered.

Jason smiled widely, as he laid his right leg on the table and rolled his trousers up.

Damian leaned to him and examined the picture closely. "Is that…?"

"Yep, The Joker," Jason affirmed. Right on his calf there shone a picture of named villain, encircled in Ghostbusters-like logo. Dick just stared with his mouth agape, while Tim peeked again from behind the screen.

"What, a crowbar?" he asked curiously and pointed his finger on line crossing clown´s face.

"Cool, huh?" Jason grinned. "It´s a remainder, a promise. Next time I see him, it is me holding that damn crowbar," he added ominously.

Everyone except Dick admired the piece of art above Jason´s ankle. Dick just massaged his temples desperately, all appetite gone.

The doorbell rang.

Alfred came out of the kitchen. "It must be Miss Gordon. She has been invited for breakfast." He commented the scene at the table by just cocking his eyebrow and went for the door.

In a few second Barbara Gordon entered the dining room, followed by Alfred.

"Morning," she sang. When she noticed the group at the table she curiously looked at Dick.

"Damian wants tattoo," he answered her silent question.

"Oh… did you already tell them about yours, then?"

All heads snapped to Dick, who was now deep red in face.

"Um… oh… well…," he stuttered.

"I want to see it at once!" Damian ordered.

"You don´t. Trust me," Barbara assured him.

Dick started to slide down under the table inconspicuously.

"I remember getting mine removed hurt quite a lot," Alfred remarked, cleaning up used dishes. Dick paused his flee, now everybody looked at Alfred.

"Imprudent youth at MI6," the butler shrugged and vanished in the kitchen.

"I always said Alfred is a badass," Jason aknowledged.

Lord of the house entered the dining room, holding newspapers, only to stop at the door and gaze, speechless.

"What´s that," Bruce bat-glared, looking at Jason´s calf, still resting comfortably on the table.

"A tattoo," Jason said casually, finally taking his leg off the table.

"I am getting one, too," said Damian proudly.

"No way you are," said Bruce firmly.

"But, father, Todd has one, even Grayson...", Damian protested.

Bat-glare targeted on Dick, who once again tried to vanish under the table unsuccessfully.

"Tim, do you have something to tell me?" Bruce asked, his eyes still on his oldest son. Tim lifted his hands in defense. "I wouldn´t even think of it!"

"Good. We will discuss this later." said Bruce menacingly, and left, probably to have a breakfast in the Batcave, in a sweet sweet tattoo-free solitude.

Dick crawled out from under the table cautiously. "Do you think he has got a tattoo?"

Contemplative silence settled in the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter piece, fluff and some brotherly bonding :) As always, enjoy, and thank you for reading, kudos and comments :)

"Are you serious, Grayson?" Damian frowned incredulously at a huge pile of cookie packets laying on the table.

Bruce was out somewhere, doing who knows what with the League, and Alfred was on a very well earned vacation. Dick persuaded Bruce, that - being an adult and a cop - he is perfectly capable of babysitting his two youngest brothers. Alfred however did not extended his faith in Dick not to forbid him from touching anything but the fridge, toaster and kettle jug in his kitchen kingdom.

"C´mon, Little D, from time to time it is OK to let your diet slip a bit," Dick winked at Damian.

"As good as I remember, you said the same about yesterday´s pizza and the day before yesterday´s Chinese take-away," Tim answered instead of Damian.

Before Dick was able to say a word, Jason slipped through the open window into the dining room.

He nodded in appreciation towards the pile of sachets and remarked: "I see you have finally got to your senses and keep away from the kitchen, Dickie-bird."

Dick growled in frustration. "Are we going to have a breakfast? Or should I rather go and make some porridge and scrambled eggs?" he asked and somehow he managed to make the words sound more like a threat, then offering the breakfast.

"Very well, I am going to try one of these sugar loaded nonsenses," Damian sighed and reached for packet of cookies.

"Wait, Dami, are you telling us, you have never eaten Oreo before?" When Damian shook his head, all of his three brothers stared at him in disbelief.

"We have to catch up, then," Jason grinned.

"Wait, and do you know at all how to eat Oreo properly?" Dick stopped him.

"There are more ways to eat a biscuit?" Damian raised his eyebrows.

"And here we go again," Tim sighed.

Dick ignored him and with a wide smile he sat closely to his youngest brother. He poured himself a glass of milk and unwrapped a pack of cookies.

"So, the only proper way to eat Oreo is this," and he demonstrated right away. "You twist carefully the biscuit like this, and voila, you have two halves. Then you lick this incredibly delicious cream...mmm…, and finally you dip these darlings into the milk and savor them," Dick finished contentedly and licked his sticky fingers.

Tim snorted. "I don´t know, why are you making rocket science out of it. You just take a biscuit and eat it piece by piece," and Tim showed his concept illustratively.

"Yea, just make short work of it," said Jason and threw a cookie in his mouth in whole. And second. And a third. His brothers watched him a bit disgusted. "Slow down, Jay-bird, or you could need a new pair of trousers soon."

"Tsk, these are all muscles," Jason patted his stomach. "Moreover, I am not the one who´s running around on the rooftops dressed in Spandex, so I don´t have to watch my diet."

Damian and Tim rolled their eyes simultaneously.

The fight began to rise nicely. Both younger birds felt as if they were at the tennis play, watching arguments and fierce glares flying between the older ones. Surprisingly no punches yet.

Tim finally gave up. He leaned towards Damian a bit hesitantly. "I personally am going to make some waffles. Jason-approved," he added when he saw slightly panicked look in Damian´s eyes. Alfred´s waffles were infamously indigestible.

Damian bit his lower lip, clearly torn apart inside. "But what about Pennyworth´s ban?" he asked. "It doesn´t apply on me," Tim winked conspiratorially.

Before the boys vanished from the battlefield, Tim grabbed a pack of cookies from the disturbingly diminished pile.

"But you still definitely have to try these. One way or another, I am sure you will like them."


	4. Chapter 4

It was a beautiful spring morning. Temperatures remained over zero during the nights, grass became green again, birds were singing. Pink sunrays cracked into the dining room, casting warm patterns of light.

Bruce Wayne sat at the table with his two oldest sons, savouring breakfast prepared by his faithful butler.

Jason, his second oldest, his prodigal son, was having his usual huge plate of toasted bread and was slowly eating his way through it with a blissful expression on his face.

His oldest, Dick, was having a bowl of cereals. He was stuffing his mouth with it in an almost Flash-speed, sipping from his mug in between the bites.

Bruce was about to make a disapproving remark, when he looked suspiciously at Dick´s mug. His eyes narrowed at first, only to widen with realization to a size of a saucer seconds later.

He nodded at Alfred inconspicuously, the butler leaned closer, as if he wanted to refill his master´s cup. "Alfred, what is Dick drinking? Bruce asked almost inaudibly. "His usual decaffeinated coffee, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. "Are you sure?" iquired Bruce further. Both men looked at Dick, who had finished eating (if you can call it eating) and was now merrily chattering something to Jason. Who of course was trying to ignore him as always.

"Couldn´t you just by an accident mix up Dick´s coffee with Tim´s?" Bruce asked, but it was rather rhetorical question. Both of them paled.

Before Alfred could answer, Tim stumbled into the dining room. As usual before his first coffee, he reminded of zombie. But today something was… different.

Tim sat down to the table, poured himself coffee and muttered something sounding like "-morning." The four members of his family stared at him with mouths agape. Even Dick fell silent.

The silence was interrupted by Jason. "Good morning, Rainbow Dash," he chuckled.

"?"

Jason grabbed Tim at his shoulders and stood him in front of the big mirror hanging on the wall. Tim stared at his reflection, unable to speak, suddenly fully awake. His once jet black hair was now shining with all the colors of the rainbow. Literally.

"What… Who..."

Jason howled with laughter. "Don´t look at me! Well, maybe I might have mentioned something about certain april-the-first-connected tradition to Damian," he added, already running, as Tim launched himself at him. Jason dodged his brother and sprinted out of the room, with Tim closely following.

The two older men looked at each other in disbelief, while Dick was crying with laughter.

"On my word, April jokes..." Alfred shook his head.

Almost inhuman scream sounded though the manor.

"Garage," Bruce commanded, and all of them darted to the place from where the they have heard the cries.

Jason stood at the place where he used to park his motorbike. Except that, now there was standing a bike. Girl´s bike. Very pink bike. With ribbons hanging from its handlebars. Red Hood´s helmet was, let´s say different, too. Sprayed over with bubble gum pink paint matching the bike´s, decorated with multicolored flower stickers.

Tim was leaning on the wall in fit of laughter, apparently forgetting for a moment, his hair would be a nice match to that bike too.

"That little bastard, what have he done to my bike?!" Jason roared madly.

"Language, Todd!" a voice echoed from hidden speaker. "Rest assured, your precious is safe. But this million dollar picture is on it´s way to your loser friends," Damian continued mischievously.

"He didn´t," Jason gasped. In that very moment his cellphone rang, noticing him of several text messages. "It seems he did," Tim choked.

"You will soon stop laughing, Drake. Make a guess: where is your photo going to, Rainbow Dash?" Tim´s smile froze. "He didn´t!"

"It seems he did," Jason mimicked. Now it was Tim´s phone that started to jingle. They both pulled their phones out and started to check their inbox with terrified expression. Dick was peeking over their shoulders, leaning on them, clearly unable to stand on his own, citing the messages.

" ´Nice coming-out, Pink Hood,´ Roy."

" ´Guess you have a new codename, Rainbow Robin,´ Kid Flash"

"May I have a ride, J.?´ Steph"

"R. R., you animal, LOL´ Beast Boy"

"And as for you, Grayson..." Damian paused for a moment, as if listening to something. In a few seconds Dick´s phone pinged. "Barbara?" he said curiously seeing the sender and clicked the message open. A moment of silence.

"OK, gentlemen, Jay is holding his arms, I have the upper half, Tim the lower, changing every two minutes."

"Sounds like plan," Tim nodded.

Jason cracked his fingers meaningfully.

The boys stormed out of the garage. Silence fell. Alfred and Bruce were inspecting the bike and the helmet thoughtfully.

"I guess I should be glad Damian is starting to act like typical boy. And that at least three quarters of my sons are cooperating," Bruce remarked.

"On the other hand, maybe you should go upstairs and try to save the family manor, sir. The blood stains are awfully resistant, too."

Bruce just sighed, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand. But Alfred could not miss the smile twitching his master´s mouth.


End file.
